Small Flames Burn the Brightest
by Shinigami Merchant
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple penalty game, but the emergance of a new Heartless changes that. De-Aged Axel fic.
1. Chapter 1

Small Flames Burn the Brightest

"Remind me again how you managed to force me to agree to this?" Isa asks as he sidesteps an ice blast. The wooden platform of the Struggle ring creaks as he shifts his weight, swinging his Claymore forward for a counter.

"You lost the bet." Lea calls, turning up the heat on the ring of flames that surrounds Isa and his opponents; a smirk playing at the edge of his lips as he watches the ice spell disintegrate into wisps of harmless steam. Yes, a flame barrier surrounding a wooden platform, what could possibly go wrong.

"Now you have to pay the penalty. Got it mem- "

"Don't even start with that." Isa hisses, cutting off Lea's infuriating catch phrase. "Xion lost as well, so why isn't she here fighting this horde alongside me?"

"Someone's gotta fetch the ice cream to celebrate your victory, don't they?" Lea shrugs as he kicks his feet up on the stone bench, stretching out like a lazy cat basking in a particularly strong pool of sunlight.

Isa valiantly ignores this as he brings down his Claymore once more, only to suppress a sigh as the Blue Rhapsody he is aiming for slips past his weapon.

"Are you sure we shouldn't help him?" Roxas asks from where he sits on the bench next to Lea.

Isa does not raise an eyebrow at Roxas' suggestion, though it is a near thing.

Too near if Lea's sudden bark of laughter is anything to go by. "Help him? When we're finally getting a small bit of payback for all the mission's he dumped on us in our Organization days? Fat chance."

"He was just doing his job, plus he was taking orders from Xemnas, wasn't he?" The uncertainty is so clear in Roxas' voice that Isa has no trouble picturing the small frown that's probably creasing the boys' brow. It's an expression Isa saw all too often during the blondes first days under the moniker of Number XIII.

"Roxas, Roxas, Roxas." Axel chides in an amused voice that sends a chill running down Isa's spine, even as he blocks a sharp set of dark claws. "Though it may be true that our friend here was Norted, believe me when I tell you that the vindictive streak he sported as Saix was all Isa."

"He wasn't that vindictive, at least not all the time." Isa would appreciate Roxas coming to his defence a lot more if the blonde didn't sound so unsure.

In contrast, Lea's voice is full of confidence as he snorts. "You forget, I knew him way before our Organization days. The amount of times I got into trouble beca-whoa behind you!" Isa has already seen the Neo Shadow rearing to attack, but the sentiment is noted. It won't save Lea from his so-called vindictive side when he's done with this battle though, nothing will, but still.

"Nice save! Anyway, as I was saying, believe me when I tell you that all those extra nasty missions and the huge quota's we had to fill were all down to Isa. He's always been a slave driver."

Roxas falls quiet at that, allowing Isa to completely focus on the battle once more. Three Neo Shadows fall to his blade with one sweep. Clearing out the ground based Heartless that have been interfering with his limited arsenal of ranged attacks; his only effective tactic against his airborne nemeses'.

It should be easy, this entire farce of a penalty game he's having to play should be easy, but it's not. Each wave he destroys is replaced almost instantly by another. It's frustrating, more than anything. The Heartless he's facing aren't particularly strong, there's just so many of them.

"That's it, he needs help." Isa can see Roxas moving to stand, his arm already outstretched to summon his Keyblade. Only to be stopped when Lea sits up, casually draping an arm around Roxas' shoulders.

"Whoa there Roxas, hold your horses." Lea tuts, dragging his friend close and waving a finger at Roxas as one would a misbehaving child. "This is way too much fun and he's had this coming for a while."

"What could he have possibly done to earn this?" Isa is asking himself that same question.

"Wonderland. Slime. Orchid Heartless."

There's a beat of silence, filled only with the sound of dissipating Heartless.

Then, "good luck Isa!" Roxas calls as he sits back down.

Isa does not growl at the smirking blond, nor does he lop off an advancing Dusks head with too much force. He does however take a moment to observe that a few Nobodies have joined the fray, wonderful.

It's getting to the point where he truly believes that things can't possibly get any worse. How the universe just loves to prove him wrong.

From the centre of the struggle ring emerges a Heartless he's never seen before. Hooded and small with dark colourings, at first glance he could almost mistake it for a Kage; were it not for the miniature Clock Tower strapped to its back. A Clock Tower that almost perfectly emulates Twilight Towns own peaceful monument, which even now stands watch from atop the hill.

The other Heartless seem to gather around the creature, forming a sort of honour guard as the Clock Tower Heartless charges an attack. Isa is not willing to give it the time.

He strikes out, almost blindly, planning to scatter the paltry defence that stands between him and his true target. It's a tactic that's proven itself time and again; though a Heartless' instincts compel them to follow a strong Darkness they will always prioritize their own existence.

It's for this reason that he's caught off guard. Left standing, nearly frozen in shock when instead of dodging the Heartless throw themselves into his attack.

It's more than enough to buy the Clock Tower Heartless the time it seems to need.

Swinging the miniature from its back the new Heartless slam's the tower to the ground, sending out shockwaves as the twin bells chime a mournful tune. Never a good sign.

Having had enough of this as soon as it started, Isa is more than ready to finish this.

"Moon, shine down!" The cry echoes throughout the struggle plaza. Just as a light that nearly rivals his own aura surrounds the Tower Heartless.

Lost in the heady rush that always comes with his Berserker mode, Isa doesn't care when the Heartless unleashes its attack. He doesn't care that the flame ring that had kept him trapped has been deactivated, ever since this strange new enemy appeared. He does care when he feels strong warm fingers latching onto the back of his jacket. When familiar flaming red locks replace the vision of the dark orb of energy that had been heading straight towards him.

Lea falls without a cry as the attack meant for Isa slams into his chest, but his eyes are wide, shocked and confused, until they are not. Until they're glazed and unfocused in a way that's so unnatural, so not Lea, that it leaves Isa feeling cold.

They both hit the ground at the same time. Isa skidding back even as he digs his weapon into the wood of the temporary stage, while Lea crumbles; arms wrapped around his chest as though he's trying to hold on to something already lost.

"Axel!" Roxas shouts from where he stands just behind Isa, fending off the remaining Heartless; the few that survived Isa's reckless assault. Those too slow or too weak to escape, even though the barrier that had been responsible for keeping them there is gone.

The Clock Tower Heartless is neither. With an arrogant flip, Isa can only watch as the Heartless disappears. A flaming red orb clutched in its hand.

"Damn it!" The words leave him as a guttural snarl as he hurls his weapon at the place the Heartless has vanished. A useless gesture, one that gains him nothing.

"Sai-Isa." Roxas stutters, his tone high and panicked as he reaches Lea's side. Shaking hands latching onto his friends' shoulders as Lea shrinks into himself.

Like this he almost looks to be the same height as Roxas…

"…" Isa stares, unable to process what he's seeing, the logical part of his mind not wanting to believe it.

Lea continues to shake in Roxas' hold as black wisps of dark energy engulf his form. He is struggling to breathe, each gasp of air laboured, strained to the point where it sounds painful.

"He needs an Esuna." Roxas says as Isa takes a knee at Lea's free side.

"It's not a spell I ever thought to learn." Why would he? Isa has never been focused on magic attacks, preferring to bombard his enemies with powerful strikes that overwhelm or simply destroy them outright.

It's obvious that Roxas doesn't know how to cast it either. The blonde may have moments of naivety that rival even Sora's, but he would never leave a friend—especially Lea—in such a state if he could cure it.

"Does Xion know it?" He asks instead; resting his own hand on Lea's back, trying to coax his friend into sitting up so he can better assess the damage.

"Do I know what? Wait! What's going on! Axel?" Xion run's from across the plaza; dropping the ice-cream's she had been carrying as she rushes to their side.

Lea looks up at that, responding to the old name and Isa feels his blood freeze.

"Xion cast Esuna now!"

Even confused and concerned she doesn't hesitate. "Esuna!"

The dark tendrils of energy are washed away by the warm light that suddenly surrounds Lea. He collapses the moment the light begins to dissipate, but both Isa and Roxas are there to catch him. They turn him so he's on his back, not lying face down against the scarred wood of the stage, but that's when they nearly drop him.

"Whoa!" Even over Roxas' louder exclamation Isa can hear his own breath catching in his throat. Xion takes a step back, her hand rising to cover her mouth as she stares dumbfounded at the young man supported by her friends. It's Axel, that's for certain. Not Lea, Axel.

The sudden changes are startling.

He's smaller, barely taller than Roxas. His hair is slightly shorter, but still set in that wild style he's sported since he joined the Organization. He's also wearing the Organization's trademark Black trench coat. The same one he'd swore he would burn if he ever saw it again. Most importantly—to Isa at least—the tear drop tattoos are back; these more than anything have always marked the difference between Lea and Axel for him.

He shakes his head. In this moment he needs to focus on what he can do for his friend now, not dwell on what he couldn't do in the past.

He goes back to analysing Axel's condition; hoping to find some clue as to how to reverse…whatever this is.

It obviously can't be classed as a status. If it could then Xion's Esuna would have taken care of it. That being said it's also true that Xion's magic did have some sort of effect, as proven when the smothering mist that had been slowly engulfing Lea dispersed. Did that mean the dark energy had been a separate attack all together, or was it merely a by-product of the power which had de-aged, replaced, regressed? —Isa didn't even know how to classify this. It wasn't like any power he had seen before.

A soft groan draw's Isa from his musings.

Axel is beginning to come around. A hand rising to massage his forehead, shielding his eyes as he tries to sit up. He isn't left struggling alone for long; Roxas places a guiding hand on his shoulder and Xion soon comes to join him on Axel's opposite side.

"What were you thinking? Are you okay?" Xion admonishes as she brushes away the light coating of dust that has settled on the dark leather of his coat.

Axel stills; his hand stiffening, causing fine lines to crease the smooth black surface of his gloves.

Xion and Roxas don't seem to notice.

Isa only has just enough time to wrap his fingers in the collar of Xion's shirt. The feather light touch of stray hairs brushes against his clenched fist as he pulls her back; throwing her clear of the blast as he raises his free hand in a pathetic attempt at defence.

He can feel the freshly born flames licking at his skin, clawing at his clothes, hungry and determined to devour anything in their path in order to ensure their own survival. Only for his vision to be flooded with refracted light in the form of a Reflega spell.

He looks back to see Xion crouching where he threw her. Arm outstretched towards him, glowing with the bright light of the magic that paints her fingertips. He watches as her eyes widen in concerned shock and he instinctively turns to follow her gaze, all the while trying to strangle the dread that's rising in his throat.

The flicker of darkness he catches through the disintegrating shards of the Reflega shield has him rising to his feet; stumbling as he sacrifices balance for speed.

Even so, it's not enough.

"Lea!" His hand falls through the fading wisps of darkness. Still, an instinctual chill that runs down his spine at the dark promise of power that those tendrils hold has him recoiling.

When he looks again all traces are gone. Only the ash of spent flames and the fresh scratches marring the once polished surface of the struggle ring, like so many open wounds, marks the passing of a battle lost.

"We have to go after him." Roxas' panicked voice draws Isa's fraying attention. He stands on unsteady legs, one hand clenched closely to his side, the true extent of the injuries that may mar his skin hidden beneath a thick layer of soot. He fights to raise his Keyblade with his free arm, its shaft already alight with the cool green glow of a Cure spell.

Isa beats him to it; throwing a Hi-Potion over Roxas' head as he passes the boy on his way to the Struggle Plazas exit.

He hears a stuttered gasp of relief and the hurried sound of footsteps catching up with him, but he doesn't turn back.

"Isa! Where are you going?" Xion asks quietly as she catches up to him, her fingers reaching out to wrap a tentative grasp around his wrist. Roxas rushes to his other side; sweeping ash and dust from his ruined jacket, walking so close that his shoulder is almost brushing Isa's arm. The plaintiff look in his eyes asking the question: what do we do?

Isa doesn't pull away like he once would have. Instead he answers their questions.

"We're going to find that Heartless. Then we're going to find that flaming idiot and fix this."

"Remind me again how you managed to convince me to get out of bed, to go for a walk in the pouring rain, at five o'clock in the morning?" Noctis asks as he attempts to sweep back the sodden strands of hair that have fallen into his eyes.

"Dude, come on, fair's fair. You lost the bet, you gotta pay up." Prompto teases in a lilting voice, as he casually slings an arm around Noctis' shoulders. The unexpected extra weight nearly causes Noct to stumble as his sleep weary mind undercompensates on the rough ground beneath their feet, but he catches himself. It doesn't stop him from sending a glare Prompto's way; one his friend just shrugs off with a sunny smile.

"You won't be smiling for long if a Daemon decides that pre-dawn still counts as night when there's this much cloud cover." He watches from the corner of his eye as Prompto stiffens, feeling the muscles in his friends' arm—still wrapped around his shoulder—go taut as his eyes dart back and forth across the darkened landscape.

Seeing nothing, Prompto eventually manages a breathy chuckle, "nah, there's no way they'll pop out now…right?"

"Right." Noct confirms, voice more assured, as he lightly digs his elbow into Prompto's side. Encouraging his friend to finally remove his arm.

Free, Noct stretches; slowly working out the kink that sits heavily between his shoulders. He'll have to try and convince Ignis that the lure of actual beds is worth the blow their funds will take. A hard task, considering the tight hold his Advisor has had on their purse strings lately. However, the thought of spending another night laid out against the hard rock of a Haven, with only the thin layer of his sleeping bag acting as a barrier…he won't allow it. His lower back twinges in agreement.

"Ah! There's one!" Prompto's shout draws his attention.

He watches as the blonde disappears behind a bush, only to emerge seconds later; a light covering of wet mud clinging to his fingers and the hallowed prize he has grasped in his hand.

"A Mushroom? Do not say you've just come up with a new Recipeh." Noctis sighs in resignation as he pinches the bridge of his nose; already dreading Prompto's undoubtedly corny reply.

"What? No, no, nothing like that," Prompto denies, waving his arms dramatically and nearly splattering Noct with mud. "Then again…"

"Prompto."

"Okay, okay, chill dude." Prompto chuckles, "this is our prized bait. I've heard that the Catoblepas are mad for these, just a few more of them and we should be able to draw one in."

"Draw one in?" Noct's voice holds a deadpan edge which Prompto spectacularly fails to catch.

"Yeah! It'll make for an epic shot, especially if we make it to the lake just as the sun's rising."

"You better be about to hand me your camera." Noct extends his hand, palm up, to emphasise his point.

Prompto just stares at him, a sheepish grin creeping at the edges of his lips. "Well, actually—"

"No." Noct interrupts, flinging his arms up in frustration, "not happening."

He turns sharply on his heel, starting to make his way back up the path they'd trodden through the soaked undergrowth.

"Oh, come on Noct! Please!" Prompto jogs to catch up to him, his footsteps rushed and uneven as he struggles not to slip. "This is the one chance I'm gonna get to take this shot! You can warp so there's no wa-aah!"

Noct halts abruptly, spinning round at the sound of his friends cry so quickly that he nearly falls. Loose stone and soft mud shifting beneath his boots at such an odd angle that he almost loses his footing.

"Prompto!" His eyes search the tree line desperately. He'd been kidding about the Daemons, but now that he thinks about it seriously, maybe the cloud cover has made them braver.

Against his will his mind conjures up several unwelcome memories. Imps with sharp claws and bright eyes; dancing in between and around dull shafts of sunlight in the cloying darkness of a mine. The Ronin standing tall within the shadows, safe from the pool of light. Iron Giants lurking beneath rocky outcroppings, their swords tensed to strike.

Panic hits him like a physical blow. Its overwhelming his senses; causing the shadows of trees to morph and shift into the shape of Daemons. Turning the lightest tremble of wind over dew-soaked pine branches into the eerie sound of scourge stained chittering rasps.

"Prompto!" He takes a step as he calls out his friends name again. "If this is some sort of prank, I swear I'm gonna—"

"Dude down here," Noct's threat dies in his throat at Prompto's shout. He Zero's in on his friends' voice; catching a flash of blond hair against the backdrop of the many shades of green that paint the small woodland. "I need some help."

Choosing to forego the steep hill which separates him from Prompto, Noct summons a blade. With a well-practiced flick, the weapon flies from his grasp. He's warping even before the blade sinks itself into the hard wood of the wide tree that stands just behind where Prompto sits, crouched on the ground.

"Are you hurt?" He's already looking Prompto over for injuries when he asks, but there's nothing he can see.

"Oh, no dude, not me." Prompto shakes his head firmly, before nodding down to a hunched figure curled up on the ground beside him. "He's in really bad shape."

Now that he's not so focused on making sure Prompto is in fact okay and not just playing down his wounds—as he so often does—Noct allows his attention to drift to the young man Prompto is worriedly hovering over.

Noct is shocked that he hadn't spotted the teen immediately. Even with the thick layers of dirt and something that Noct hopes is not fresh blood, the young man's hair stands out stark against the morning shadows. A fiery red that seems alive as the wind sweeps through it.

Looking further Noct can see that Prompto's assessment is true; the kid really is in bad shape. What looks to have once been a leather jacket now lies in ragged remnants which barely cling to the boys' frame. Underneath the ruined clothing rests abused skin, which is already beginning to discolour with a collection of mottled bruises. Nothing else can be seen under the cover of mud and dirt, made all the darker with the freely flowing blood from a set of nasty lacerations that run the length of the teens exposed left arm.

"I already gave him a potion, but it only took care of this massive cut he had across his chest." Prompto indicates a large tear in the boys' jacket that's coated in quickly cooling blood, causing the fabric of his mostly intact shirt—which might have once been black like his jacket, but now looks to be a rusted shade of red in the weak morning light—to stick to his skin.

"We'll have to get him back to the Haven. Have Specs take a look at him." Noct replies, knowing without even having to check the armiger that he doesn't have anything stronger than a potion. "Do you think it's safe to move him?"

Prompto scratches the back of his head nervously, clearly unsure. "I don't know, but if we leave him out here, he probably doesn't stand a chance."

Noct nods, weighing up their limited options. "What if one of us stays here; keeps an eye on him and makes sure none of the local wildlife tries to take advantage?"

"That could work, you'll be faster with your ability to warp." Prompto summons his gun and quickly checks the chamber; seemingly satisfied he turns back to Noct. "If anything goes wrong, I'll send up a Starshell."

"Right, I'll be back as soon as I can." Without another word Noct picks up the dagger which is still lodged firmly in the bark of the tree. He can't suppress the small grimace at the sight of sticky tree sap clinging to the blade, but he quickly brushes that idle thought away as he aims.

He already knows that every warp will count; he's going to have to balance distance and speed if he wants to avoid going into stasis. Taking a deep breath, he throws the dagger and all at once the world shatters into azure light.


	2. Endless Darkness

Endless darkness.

He is used to seeing that, given his preferred mode of transport. Corridors of Darkness, creepy as they are, he's gotta admit practically being able to teleport himself almost anywhere is nice.

Endless darkness, yellow eyes, sharp claws, and the chilling void of the abyss where the streets of The World That Never Was should be. Not so nice.

The moment he steps through the corridor he created in Twilight Town; he knows he's made a mistake.

Darkness that once came at his call like a loyal dog bristles and struggles against his control. Each moment spent here saps away a little more of his strength and even with his Organization coat he can feel the darkness seeping in, searching for a heart he no longer has.

He stumbles as he exits the corridor, then completely loses his footing as his boot catches on something unseen. Soft dirt chokes him as he gasps in pain and it's wrong, so wrong. He should have landed on the solid concrete of the damp streets of the World That Never Was.

Blinking unfocused eyes to try and get his bearings does little. Even as his vision clears all he can see is the many shifting shadows of the Realm of Darkness.

Fear—no, the memory of fear he reminds himself, he no longer has the heart needed to feel fear—grips his throat as he stands.

He summons his Chakrams—foregoing his usual dramatic flair—the slight heat that radiates from them warming his palms as he adjusts his grip. They chase away the memory of fear as he raises one to see further into the darkness.

Ochre eyes stare back at him.

Blinking against the light, Axel shrugs as he shakes off the cold tendrils clinging to his coat and takes a step forward. There's no sign of any real danger; it seems he's on the outer edges of the Realm of Darkness, that dreary precipice of blackness that likes to float ominously around the limits of nonexistence.

This, however, left one question. "How the heck did I wind up here?"

His query goes unanswered as the Heartless slink around the pool of light cast by his flames.

Ignoring them he stretches out an arm to summon another Corridor of Darkness. It's obvious he simply made a mistake.

Not that he'll tell Saix that, or tell Saix about being seen, or that he had passed out, or about the fact that he can't really remember what he was doing in Twilight Town in the first place…

…come to think of it, maybe it's best that nobody hears about this, ever.

Yep, that's for the best. This is definitely one mission he does not want memorized.

Corridor formed, he dismisses his Chakrams and eagerly walks through the gaping vortex of darkness before him.

He exits the other side and freezes.

An endless darkness, yellow eyes, sharp claws, and a deep chill are all that greet him.

"What the hel-agh!"

He flinches back as one of the shadows leaps forward, dark talons raking across his upraised arm as the shade manifests in the form of a Neoshadow.

He grits his teeth as he suppresses his cry, but it's too late. He doesn't even have time to assess the damage as more Heartless slink from the darkness. Swords held in hand with stunted and frayed wings, which somehow still manage to keep them aloft: Orcus'.

"Hey guys, you're a bit more worked up than usual. What? Has Xemnas not been feeding you or something?" He wasn't expecting a reply but that doesn't mean he appreciates the shadowed blade that comes flying towards his head.

"Hey! I'm meant to be the hot head here!" Fire erupts as his Chakrams fly, covering his retreat to the corridor that still lays open behind him.

He doesn't get far, not with the pool of darkness he hadn't noticed suddenly smothering his flames, choking the once towering pillars of fire down to nothing more than a few wisps of smoke.

Normally, this would be nothing to worry about, but then again normally he wasn't on his own, surrounded by ever-growing-numbers of apparently underfed Heartless that he has absolutely no control over. Oh yeah, and he isn't trapped in the Realm of Darkness, but this is his life now so there's only one sensible thing to do.

Throw more fire and don't look back.

As sound a strategy as that is, there isn't much he can do against the horde of Heartless that begin to tumble free from the still open Corridor of Darkness behind him. At least not while he's still dealing with the ever-multiplying Orcus and Neoshadow army before him. Oh, and is that a Darkside he sees clawing its way out of the bubbling puddle of shadows…

Welp, he's done.

Dismissing the suicide track he likes to call his previous escape route, Axel reaches out to summon another, but because that worked so well last time, he throws up a fire wall between him and the literally unending horde just to be safe.

The near blinding wall of flames encircles him, driving back the heartless for a moment as many of them sink back into the floor.

"What? Is that all you got?" He taunts as he raises a hand to summon a new corridor, only to cringe as a sharp pain lances up the length of his arm. His eyes are finally drawn to the deep gouges that have been carved into his skin, leaving the leather of his coat hanging in strips and his blood dripping to the floor.

"That's new." Axel cradles his arm against his chest in an attempt to slow the bleeding as he raises his free hand. Thinking that it's probably best he deals with his injury in a place that you know, isn't home to a bunch of literal monsters.

The barest threads of darkness begin to weave together to form his escape, just as the ground beneath him starts to shake. Distracted, Axel loses his tenuous grasp on the dark power, which still seems to be struggling against his control. Is it an effect of this Realm? He doesn't know and he doesn't have time to think about it as his shaky footing completely gives way.

Scrambling, he manages to latch onto the edge of the sudden precipice, his nails digging into the soft dirt even as he continues to sink. Yes, sink.

Into the giant hole of darkness that conveniently—yes, that's sarcasm—decided to open beneath his feet.

Dragging himself free was never an option, but it becomes truly impossible when the incorporeal vines of darkness wrap themselves around his arm. Even so he fights it, pouring strength into his waning grip as the shadows continue to pull him down.

He loses his fight when the ground he clings to simply gives way. Enveloped within the pool of Darkness he drowns for long seconds, his lungs torn apart by the weight of a formless shade that rips and tears at him even as he falls.

Everything stops as he hits solid ground again, but he feels something give in a way it shouldn't.

Dazed, in pain, and more than a little confused he tries to push himself back to his feet, knowing that every moment spent lying in the dirt is another chance he has of defending himself lost.

He manages to get to his knees, but something shifts in his chest and the gasp of pain that follows has him curling involuntarily in on himself. His lungs feel like they're on fire, every shallow breath hurts but he knows he has to move, he has to get up.

That decision is taken from him with the descent of one hand.

Talons the size of columns close around him. The air is crushed from his lungs, silencing his roar of pain, even as a darkness that doesn't belong to this realm dances along the edges of his vision.

The flames he can feel sparking to life along the lines of his one free arm burn with an eclipsed light, one he is barely able to see dancing along the edges of the remnants of his shredded coat.

Still he calls to them, urging them to burn brighter as the grip around his middle tightens.

He can feel the flames growing, sense them feeding off his magic with an endless appetite that breeds recklessness. Still he holds back his attack, knowing that were he to unleash it now it would barely be more powerful than a simple Firaga. Fun spell, but not strong enough to take down a Darkside in a single hit; he knows this from experience…painful experience.

The pressure that has been slowly intensifying around his chest suddenly increases, what was once a steadily constricting grip is now a crushing force. It robs him of the last of his waning control, the choice of when to release the scorching torrent raging within his being is taken from him.

His nerves sing as they are set alight by the wild flames that rise around him. His vision once washed black is now blazing back to life with a red that sets his world on fire.

The hand holding him disappears from his perception, whether it dissolves or the Darkside dropped him doesn't matter. All that matters is the rush of air as he tumbles to the ground in a tangle of exhausted limbs.

He comes to rest uneasily on his side, the only sounds are his ragged breaths and the thunderous beat of his own pulse echoing in his ears. Even so, he doesn't hesitate this time.

Summoning what feels like the last of his strength, he focuses on calling a Corridor of Darkness. Not to the World That Never Was; for whatever reason that isn't working. No, he opens a connection to the closest world that still possesses light, he's not even sure which world it is—Twilight Town again? He doesn't know—he doesn't care, so long as it isn't here.

When it finally forms, he all but falls into the corridor. Some impassive part of his brain that sounds suspiciously like Saix tells him that he's just going to fall face first into the cold ash of the Realm of Darkness again.

The voice is half right; he does fall face first onto the ground, but instead of the yawning abyss of darkness the smell of fresh rain, the feel of soft grass beneath him, and a distant dawn shielded by laden clouds greets him.

"Heh, made it." The words are little more than a whispered slur mumbled into the dirt, but they take the last of his strength and with it his final grasp on consciousness.

Sensations and sounds come to him in dribs and drabs.

The feeling of light rain landing on his bare skin, flowing into his open wounds with a haze of trickling pain that washes away all warmth.

A gentle wind lingering to brush through his hair as it meanders across the land, whispering soft words he can't understand through the trees.

Dew wet grass presses against his fingers in a gentle caress, only to be replaced with the overwhelming pain that burns through every nerve.

Most prevalent is the smell of blood, the iron rich tang that leaves him with the taste of copper covering his tongue.

Each of these fractured scenes come to him in-between almost comforting periods of oblivion. Immeasurable periods of time in which he is free of the burning cold that seems to have seized his limbs.

The borders of this peaceful abyss of insensibility is where the voices are most clear.

"Isa? Is that my…"

"If this is some sort of prank, I swear I'm gonna—"

"It's just a bet Isa, no need to get all fired up about it."

"Dude down here…I need some help."

"You're crying again."

"I already gave hi…ut it only took care of…he had across his chest."

"…on cast Esuna now!"

"It's the charm s… can't cry, you'll mak…liar."

The voices all sound far away, but he can recognise a few of them, but he's too tired to figure out which ones.

It's the press of a hand against his forehead that convinces him to try and wake up. The peel of dried blood tangled in his lashes has him blinking disorientedly. Through blurred vision all he can make out is a flash of blonde against the backdrop of dark green that is probably the woods he's landed in.

"Hey, are you awake?" A high-pitched voice he doesn't know asks. There's the briefest moment where he smiles because yep, Saix is gonna kill him for not blowing his cover not once but twice. Then the pull of sore muscles reminds him that moving anything at the moment is just not worth it.

"…ay awake, help is on the way." Axel blinks slowly at that. He is awake, even though his eyes are closed again…wait, when did that happen?

A hand rests against his shoulder and Axel feels an aborted shake.

"Sorry, sorry, my bad." If he doesn't die of blood loss, he swears he's gonna set this kid on fire. It's a mercy compared to the agony that just shot through his entire body. Ripples of pain irradiating out from his shoulder, stealing all his focus.

His eyes close again and this time he can't fight the wave of fatigue clawing at his beaten body.

"Ye cannee blame me lad. I'm a businessman, and no merchant worth his salt is gonna lend out his ship fer free." There's a glint in the old ducks' eye that's giving Roxas a headache.

"I already said we'd be willing to pay." Roxas groans as he tries and fails to stop his hand from mussing through his hair. A nervous tell that has made him lose more than one poker game—seriously, he'll never forgive Isa for introducing Xion to that game.

"Och, I make more than enough munney from this fine establishment." Scrooge gestures to the restaurant behind him, pride written in every line of his body. "What I'm askin fer is much more valuable."

"What is it that you want?" Already suspicious Roxas crosses his arms, trying to look unmoved.

"Pah, tis a trifle." Scrooge turns away, trying to hide the unscrupulous smile that's curling his lips. "I donne suppose ye ever heard of the deal I had with young Sora?"

Roxas feels a slight twinge of sadness at the mention of Sora, but he shakes it off. Riku and Kairi will bring him back.

"No, I didn't."

"Tis the easiest thing in the world me boy, and if you were willing to do me this small favour, I'd be more than willing to lend you and yur friends the use of me Gummi Ship." Scrooge already knows he's won and to be honest Roxas is too worried to fight him.

That said, he's not so naïve that he's going to accept the job without first knowing what it is. "What favour?"

Smiling unrepentantly Scrooge explains, "just bring me some new ingredients from whichever worlds ye and yer friends visit."

Roxas blinks in confusion. "That's it?"

"That's it." Scrooge nods.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth Roxas sticks out his hand. "Deal."

"Pleasure doin' business with ye laddie." Scrooge shakes his hand firmly. "Just let me know when you're ready to embark."

Stunned that it was that easy, Roxas nods before he runs towards Station Hill, where he'd last seen Xion and Isa. He needs to give them the good news.

Just as he's wondering how he's going to find them the roar of an explosion and a plume of smoke rises above the rooftops.

"That'll be them."


End file.
